As I Fade
by Silver Blur
Summary: America. Forgotten and dead. That's at least what Panem thought. Or what Panem hoped. Alfred F. Jones. A regular person roaming the streets of District 12. No one knows where he came from. Except the person who found him lying on the forest floor half-dead. What happens when good ol' Alfred is found lying in the forest by Katniss and Peeta's eight-year-old daughter?
1. Prologue

America stood weakly against the wall, feeling ultimately cornered. He looked stiffly up at the man before him, with a scowl plastered on his face.

"Who do you think you are…?" He croaked, every word sending jolts of pain through his lungs.

The man laughed, hunching over in such a way, you might've mistaken him for dying. "Who am I?" He sneered. "I am Panem. And I am here to crush you and your comrades. I have plans for a perfect world, and the only thing in my way, is the Nations." He seemed to trail off in a pool of thought.

If America could without damaging his lungs, he would have laughed. This dude is so _monologuey. _What is he going to do? Speech him to death?

"Or at least what's left of you." He chuckled, kicking Alfred in the jaw. The Nation coughed.

_Is he targeting the other countries? Or am I the only one taking these blows? _He'd hoped not. _Maybe they're all right. Maybe they've just been minding their own business… for the past two months. _

"Look at you. So pathetic. And I thought you were the _hero._ I guess the title is the man, after all."

America wasn't happy. More like, _furious_. This was _his land. _This was _his people. _This was _him. _He jumped up with the last of his strength, and landed a punch in this _Panem's _gut. "_It takes a lot more to than that to kill a country._" He growled, pushing his fist farther into Panem's stomach. He heard Panem take a sharp intake of breath, and America smirked tauntingly.

Suddenly, Panem pushed America off of him, and America felt numb as his vision faded.

"But can't you see?" Panem coughed, regaining his composure. _"__I already have."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Ok, that last chapter was merely a prologue, and chapters will not always be that short.**

**But on the other hand, thank you for everyone who is reading this! Every view means the world to me, and reviews mean the universe! *Ominous thunder* OH AND BIG THANKS TO TheFlamingOrangePhantomhive for being the first one to review! You, my friend, are the ABSOLUTE BEST. You bring tears to my eyes! Or it might be time I should dust my room… either or, I HAVE WATER COMING OUT OF MY FACE. Maybe not, but I am just really excited. Oh jeez, I'm turning into Panem with my Author's Note! By the way, Katniss and Peeta's rebellion failed, and they were killed after they had their two children. Rye and Willow are taken care of by a woman named Lomie. Seeya in the second authors note! *Jumps off stage***

It was a beautiful fall day. Sun was shining, the few birds there were, were chirping, and small buzz of people were talking in the town's center, that had seemingly built itself. Everyone was walking with at least _someone. _Even the Mellark children were dashing around. For twelve and eleven year olds, they were unusually energetic. Always running around, bumping into people when in the center, and somehow always getting into some sort of mischief.

"Rye! Rye! I know your somewhere behind-"Eight-year-old Willow paused and looked at the tree in front of her. "This tree!" She shouted, jumping in front of where she thought he'd be.

She groaned at her failed guess once again. Where could he _be?_ She was sure she'd checked _every single tree_ in the _entire forest._

_He's eleven, you're twleve. Don't let him outsmart you. _She thought as she checked under a shrub, finding _surprise, surprise- _nothing.

She continued through the forest, checking every nook and cranny as she went along. _Gah!_ She thought as she kicked some rocks. She was about to turn back and admit defeat when she heard something move. She slowly approached the source, and carefully peaked around the tree the noise was coming from.

What she saw- was a man. A man with Sandy blonde hair, and glasses. He wasn't anything special, and Willow guessed he wasn't. He wasn't wearing anything fancy, just a white long sleeved shirt and some rather odd greenish-tan looking pants. The only thing that looked that might have cost quite a bit of money were the gloves and those glasses.

She walked up to him and nudged his forehead with her foot. "Maybe he's dea-" "PANEM!" The man jumped up and punched the tree behind him, sending it flying into another trunk. Willow made a squeak of surprise as she took a step back if she had to run.

Alfred looked to his side to see a young petrified girl about to sprint for her life. He slowly lowered his pose (Which resembled a Superman pose) and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Uh, Hi." He said, adopting a slouched position. Her eyes darted around, and she said carefully But quickly, "Who are you and how'd you do that?"

He'd have to tell her, didn't he? "Tell me your name, first." He tried to reason.

"Willow Mellark, now _who are you _and _how did you do that?_" She demanded, about to bolt for her life.

Alfred sat down on the splintered stump, and decided to introduce himself like he would a normal civilian. "Hi, my name is Alfred F. Jones, and what you saw was me punching a very brittle tree."

"How should I know to trust you? You could be a peacemaker for all I know!" Alfred's brow furrowed. He's never heard of the term 'Peacemaker.'

Then it hit him. The scenes flashed before him. _The attack. Worry about everyone. The death. The danger. And Panem killing him – or so he thought. _Alfred slouched over, letting out a sigh of defeat escape his lips. "Where are we?" He muttered, feeling ultimately beat.

Willow raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. "We're in District Twelve." Alfred perked up at the thought of Panem not actually creating a nation of his own. He decided to question her further.

"What country? Where is District Twelve?" Willow seemed to really consider running at this point.

Willow said slowly, "Panem, why?"

Alfred shouted in anger. "That poor excuse for a man! That bloody-" Alfred paused, realizing his British was showing. He closed his eyes, trying to find _some_ sort of way to overthrow Panem and bring back the Nations, but he couldn't seem to formulate a plan that made sense, or would work. He bet that everyone else would've overthrown him by now, and everyone would be living in peace for a bit. The Nation scowled at himself. They would be off saving the world while he sat playing games and-

"-Are you OK? Do you need any help?" A small voice rang. Alfred lazily looked to his side, getting into a less rigid stance.

"Yes, I'm fine. By any chance, could you take me to where you live? I understand if you don't trust me, but I'm really lost, and don't know if I'll be able to get back home." Alfred inwardly gave himself a pat on the back. It was a well crafted lie, but he wasn't sure if this girl would buy it. After all, she had displayed some serious attitude towards him earlier.

She skeptically glanced at him. Alfred silently said pleas that she would say yes. He honestly didn't want to stay in the forest for the night, who knows what lurks in there. Alfred shuddered, many images popping into his head, some involving things so _scary, _so _intimidating. _

Like Russia!

"Uh, I guess so. You seem trustworthy enough, even if I did find you sleeping on the forest floor." Alfred's head jerked up in surprise, as he definitely wasn't expecting _that. _She's a twelve year old girl right? Wouldn't she, like, threaten to cover him in nail polish?

"Come with before I change my mind." She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Alfred to follow her. Alfred didn't argue, but kept his distance away from her. She _could _cover him in nail polish, right?

Willow grimaced at herself. Inviting a stranger – From the woods nonetheless – to live with her for a bit? Was she insane? Was she having heart problems? Tapeworms? Willow highly doubted tapeworms would have convinced her to escort him home, but she definitely hoped he'd come in handy around the District, or else he would be considered useless _pronto. _The man who'd called himself Alfred – But had shouted Panem and kicked down a tree – seemed overjoyed at staying somewhere, but Willow would make sure if he had _any _malicious intentions, she'd kick him out sleet, rain, hail, no matter what the weather, and made sure he got pneumonia, frostbite, or better, both.

She took quick glances over at the man, hoping she wouldn't notice her quickly studying him. _Maybe he's a ninja, or a pirate, what if he's a – _Willow's raging train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a hand gripping her shoulder, keeping her from walking any further. She could immediately recognize it was Alfred, thanks to those leather gloves he wore. _Is he really going to kill me? _Willow stiffly stood, painfully waiting for something to happen. A gun, maybe? Perhaps a sword? She waited. _Chopsticks for all I care!_

"Uh, Willow? You were about to walk into that fence and I think it might electrocute you…" Alfred trailed off.

Willow felt her cheeks heat up. Really? _Maybe I'm just getting paranoid. _"Oh… Thanks, there's a gap around the fence over here."

The two had finally made it to their destination, and upon seeing the place that they lived in, America felt anger boil up inside of him.

**Ok guys! First chapter done! Woo! It's pretty short, but I'm trying to raise my grades in school, so I kind of have to make these really late.**

**Can you guys see the cover, or is it blank? It isn't showing up for me.**

**Anyway, Thanks for reading every single one of you! Please leave a review, and I hope you have a wonderful week!**

**_Quick question, who do you guys want me to insert into the story: Canada or Britain?_**


	3. Chapter 2

**Ohai! Thank you guys for the amazing feedback! My brain can barely handle your awesomeness! You guys are so amazing!**

**I AM SO SORRY. SO. SO. SORRY. I'VE HAD SO MUCH GOING ON, I HAVEN'T HAD TIME TO WRITE. I APOLOGIZE GREATLY FOR THE DELAY.**

Alfred shook with anger. He could even _tell_ this was American soil. For Pete's sake, it seemed as if he were somewhere near what would've been _New York City _if _Panem _hadn't come along. This place looked like a dump! And Willow said this was where she _lived? _Just thinking of people living in such conditions made the his blood boil. He furiously turned to the girl and gave her and angry questioning look.

"Where are you from? District One? In case you didn't know, we aren't the wealthiest District out there." She shrugged and continued walking nonchalantly, as if there wasn't a fuming Nation behind her.

Of course she didn't know that, and was well unaware about the spree of grumbling that was going to take place right next to her. As she walked along the small buildings, she failed to hear curses being mumbled about the land owned by Panem until she actually reached the house she lived in.

The Mellark looked at him with something akin to fear or suspicion, distancing herself from him as much as she could without losing sight of him. Alfred had noticed this, but inwardly agreed that everyone should be a couple feet away.

Just in case.

Willow stopped and looked at him. "Al, we're here. Just follow me." She had turned to her left to pry a decaying wooden door open with a screech. Alfred winced slightly as the high pitched sound met his ears. Alfred hesitated to step in. What if, Panem was going to jump out and slit his throat or something?

"Lomie, I'm home!" Willow shouted as she gestured for Alfred to step inside. Alfred gave her a skeptical look, and Willow rolled her eyes at him. "Go ahead and freeze to death outside. I don't know about you, but I'm going inside near the fire." She stepped in, leaving the door slightly open in case he was going to actually stay with them.

Alfred began to feel the cold sink into his bones once she'd left.

"Jeez, She wasn't joking when she said freeze to death, was she?" Alfred pondered, stepping into the little home to see a pair of grey eyes staring at him. Alfred flinched at the young boy's curious face.

Ok, maybe it wasn't the face that made him flinch, _maybe,_ just _maybe..._

It was the heavy butcher's knife slung on his shoulder that scared Alfred.

"Who're you? You look silly. You must be lost! I've solved the mystery!" The boy bombarded him with redundant theories and conspiracies, and eventually swung the knife at him thinking he was an alien, and could've gotten a huge gash in his side if he didn't dodge the oversized eating utensil.

"Uh, Willow?" Alfred squeaked, dodging a knife for the umpteenth time. Willow's head popped into the room, and with seeing the butcher's knife in her brother's hand, she ran over and snatched it away from him.

"Al! I am so sorry!" She apologized. She swung the knife just inches away from the boy's neck. The boy froze, and immediately apologized to Alfred.

"Rye! What did I say about the knives?! To _not _try to kill people with them!" She paused and her face contorted into one of anger. "Hey! Where were you when we were playing hide and seek?! I looked for _hours!_"

Rye looked at her in confusion. "I thought we were playing tag!"

Alfred raised a thin blonde eyebrow at them. Really? How could they get mixed up with one of the most _simple children's games __**ever**_.

Willow turned to Alfred with a sheepish smile as she threw the knife onto a counter. "I'll introduce you to my guardian after we get you something to eat. Your stomach will obviously oblige." She pointed out his rumbling stomach, which Alfred was quick to deny. She kept insisting, and Alfred couldn't help but give into those puppy eyes of hers.

The two walked to what seemed like the kitchen, and she pulled something out a drawer that seemed like squirrel jerky, and it smelled good.

Alfred had eaten a _lot_ of things in his time, ranging from buffalo tails to scorpions, and Iggy made him try something called _tea,_ so squirrel jerky wasn't a surprise at all. He gratefully took the squirrel jerky and munched on it as Willow was telling him a story on how Rye once got his head stuck in the drawer she puts the jerkies.

"So I'm guessing you hunt? Squirrel isn't a very common food." Al asked, suddenly curious. He took another bite of the jerky as Willow explained that her guardian is the one that hunts.

"Lomie is really good with traps, and I want to learn from her once she thinks I'm old enough." Willow outwardly mused. Alfred furrowed his brows. "When is old enough?" He asked. "Eighteen? Twenty one?"

"Twelve. My birthday's on the day of the reaping, so I'll be of age to be reaped on birthday. It _sucks_." She said, leaning back on the chair. "And it's going to be a Quarter Quell, so who knows what they're doing this time." Alfred looked at her with an eyebrow raised. She gasped.

"You don't know what the Hunger Games are?" Alfred's face scrunched up in confusion. Willow's eye widened. "You really aren't from around here, are you?" He shook his head. She sighed and tilted her head down. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Something flashed inside Alfred. It didn't hurt-no. It was unpleasant, a sort of nudge, almost. It pushed Alfred. Not literally, but it pushed him to say yes. To learn all he could about this place to overthrow it, to completely capsize Panem, and become the nation he once was.

"Yes."

Willow looked down sadly. "The Hunger Games are the most inhumane, horrible things ever known to mankind."


	4. Chapter 3

Rye heard a lot of shouting in the other room. He could swear he saw the walls shake. For a moment he thought his sister was getting mauled, until he heard the shouts of his sister yelling back at him to quiet down.

Rye could assume that if Mr. Mysterious didn't calm down, that the chances of someone getting hurt was high.

So naturally, he took it into his own hands.

Grabbing the closest thing to him – which happened to be a brick of some sort, likely for sharpening knives- He came crashing into the room to see Mr. Mysterious yelling about something like "-HOW DARE HE HARM INNOCENT CITIZENS-" with some accent that didn't quite make sense. Pushing this aside, Rye quickly ran over and slammed the brick on his head, hearing a yelp from Mr. He glared at Rye, who tensed under his gaze. The young boy shivered before whacking him in the temple, and watched as Mr. went out with the words "Damn Panem…" as he slumped to the floor unconscious.

He glanced at his sister, who looked utterly terrified. He quickly dropped the brick and dashed over to his sister. Rye helped her up out of her petrified state and as she started mumbling incoherent nothings. He carefully helped her lean onto her bed as he gave a quick pinch to her cheek, waking her up from her string of mumbles. She raised her head. Rye took this as an opportunity and asked her "What just happened over there?" She looked at him, confusion evident on her face.

"I don't know… I was explaining things about Panem and the Hunger Games… and he… just, flipped." She looked around and furrowed her brows. Realization spread on her face as she abruptly turned towards Rye. "Did you knock him out with a brick?" Rye gave her a sheepish nod, and she walked into the kitchen. She stumbled over her foot, soon to realize that she'd tripped over _Alfred's _foot. She bent down and attempted to pick Alfred up by putting her hands under his armpits. _How much does this guy weigh? A ton?_ She only managed to drag him a few feet before dropping him. Alfred groaned as his head hit the floor, and Willow stiffened. She resorted to leaving him on the floor, and throwing a blanket over him.

Sometimes, Alfred couldn't help but hate the world sometimes. What had happened? Why didn't he see it coming? Ravaged by war, why didn't he see it? Of course, now that it'd happened, at all pieced together like a puzzle. But looking back on then? Why was he so _stupid_? Why didn't he see that his government had been corrupted beyond compare? Why didn't he see that the government was weak after the war with the Middle East? That the corruption had traveled up, _and became the president?_

At the elections, Coriolanus Snow seemed like just the thing the country needed. Smart, Political, Silver Tongued, everything was there. He could bring the country back to what it once shone as before.

Alfred could laugh. The man was a _liar, manipulative, _and _deceitful. _He'd murdered his government, throwing the country into an uproar. He'd killed anyone in his way, sending his _Peacekeepers_ as he called them, to massacre anything and everything that tread on his path. He'd cut of all ties with the world, created towering walls as borders, and locked away the insides. And -_Ohohoho- _sent Panem's _personification_ to finish him off. Bastard couldn't do it himself. And it all goes down to one thing.

If Alfred wasn't half conscious, he'd tug at his hair in frustration.

America is no more. What would happen to Alfred? He'd heard of Nations fading, but he was _America. _Prussia didn't fade, why should he? How could he possibly be surviving? How many years has it been since he was found in that forest? Was he already fading without knowing, or does it take longer?

Although, despite the fact that Alfred had been _thinking_ and had recently been unconscious, a simple thought crossed his mind.

_I'm hungry._

Somewhere in a cold land that reeks of maple and polar bears, Canada yawned. It was quite the nonchalant gesture considering he was filling out paperwork for some deaths on the Border between America and Canada. Eighteenth time in two months, too. If anything, he was frightened and angry at why America hasn't done anything about it.

He let loose a heavy-hearted sigh. He didn't show it, but he really did miss Amer-

It was Ninety-six years ago, he scolded himself.

Ninety-six years of isolation from the world. Ninety-six years he's been forced to look at those walls that mockingly separated the two countries. He hated it. He needed to see his brother-

He stopped that train of thought before I went anywhere else.

Matthew stood up, mind drifting to political matters. He turned around, and watched as his coffee was whacked by his hand. "Oh come on!" he raged quietly. The Canadian stiffly picked up his spilled coffee in his "I 3 Canada" mug and stared angrily at his now coffee-colored paperwork. His scowl morphed into a small smile when a pleasing thought passed his mind. The words were all smudged.

"It's not paperwork without words."

Alfred awoke to a pounding headache and pair of eyes a bit too close for his preference.

"Say, d'you think ya might've killed 'em?" A scratchy voice says.

"Nah, I didn't hit him nearly hard enough."

"And how d'ya know how hard it'd take to kill a man?" Scratchy asked.

"_Lomie!" _Al who suspected was Rye, said.

"I'm jus' jokin'." 'Lomie' laughed.

_"__Guo awaph." _Alfred muttered into his pillow. The person above him yelped and jumped back. Al groaned as he turned over, clutching the back of his head.

"Owww.." He sat up and groaned in pain. "Dude… was I drinking last night?" Someone snorted.

"I like thi' guy." Lomie said. Alfred hesitantly opened his cringing eyes and saw a burly woman. A _really _burly woman. She could've been a man if she didn't have… you know… _bahoobies_. She held out her hand and Alfred took it. She yanked him up with enough for force to lift a truck. She crossed her –_really, really strong-_ arms and smiled. "So, who're you? You must've done something to get hit by a brick."

"I, uh, got angry? I think. Damn, you hit hard, kid." He smiled a toothy grin at Rye who look unimpressed. He sighed, exasperated. "Okay, Rye, I'm sorry. Got it?" Rye gave a smug smile. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"But _seriously._ What got into you last night?" Willow said from behind him. He whipped around, instantly regretting it. He clutched his head and hissed. "Ha! Kid b'careful with that headache o' yours. Keep doin' that and you'll 'ave yourself some 'erious migraines." Lomie jovially chided. Alfred scowled.

Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "Heh, don't worry, it won't happen again." He evaded the question. Willow sighed.

"Look, Lomie is it okay if he stays with us?" Willow asked, sitting on the ripped up sofa. Lomie looked confused. "I thought 'e already was.." Lomie mumbled.

Rye looked at Alfred, poking a finger on his chest. "You ever do anything like that again, you're outta here. Okay?" Alfred nodded. Rye smiled. "Good!" He walked away.

Willow turned to him. "I'm going to the market if you want to come with-" "Gah!" Alfred looked around, seeing Rye with and empty bag. "First you endanger my sister, then you eat all my jerky?" Rye whined, tossing the bag at Alfred. Alfred plucked the bag off his shoulder and nodded at Willow. "Yeah, we can go, just nothing strenuous because of the headache, 'kay dudette?" Willow furrow her brows. "Dudette? Nevermind. Lets go. I have a small list of things that we need."

Alfred walked the dirt alongside Willow, kicking up dust while humming nonsense to himself. "So, Willow, how do things work around here?" He pondered. Willow shrugged, "Well, the Districts all contribute to the capitol. Us, District 12, mine coal for energy. Most men like you are in the mines, but there can be a few exceptions. After the Revolution they tightened security immensely and then just loosened it after the fear of the capitol had set in. Things resumed as they were before the days of the Mockingjay."

Alfred looked at her funny. "Mockingjay?" Willow looked astonished. "You really _aren't _from here, are you?"

Alfred looked at her sheepishly, "I guess you could say that…"

Willow scoffed. "Anyway… we have to go check the market for any string for Lomie, some bread for me and Rye, and a bag for Rye's collection of international cloths. Don't ask."

Alfred didn't.

**Yeah, uh, hey. Haven't seen you in a while. heh. By the way, Only Canada will be in the story THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN. Yeah. I lied. Whoops. *Dodges tomatoes***

**Oh and molly122 this one's for you.**

**Have I mentioned I have no idea where this story is going? Kill me, but I'm making this up as I go. ^.^"**

**Anyway, Luv you guys! Keep commenting, it keeps me going! Bya~ **


	5. Chapter 4

Alfred grunted in confusion as he looked at the not-so-knot he had created. He pulled desperately at the mess of strings he had –somehow- tied. He sighed in exasperation. If anything he just made it worse.

"Ha! Even I couldn' make somethin' like tha'!" Lomie peered over his shoulder. "Good news is it ain't comin' out anytime soon." She scratched her neck. "Bad news is, I'm completely out of string 'cause of you. Secon' time this week, too."

Around a month back, Alfred had felt bad he wasn't doing anything to contribute. So, easily agreeing with that (At that point Alfred thought that Lomie was awaiting for him to say that) Lomie jumped into teaching traps. And with the beginning of traps, comes the beginning of knot tying. And as you can clearly see, that wasn't faring too well for him. The only knot he was remotely capable of doing was the shoe knot. You see, you do a loopty loop and pull, and your shoes are lookin' good.

"But seriously. I've tried every knot knot I know, yet I still can't seem to fin' a single knot you coul' do without hummin' a little tune. Just go wi' Rye to go get some supplies, an' when you get back I'll teach you somethin' else."

Alfred shrugged. He didn't see what was wrong with humming. Lomie straightened her back. Putting her hand next to her mouth, she shouted, "Rye!" A head popped out of the next room. "Yes?" Lomie walked over to him, putting her hands on her hips. "You're takin' Alfred with you to get some things."

Rye's happy attitude melted away. "But-"

"No buts, mister. He's comin' with you whether ya like it or not."

Alfred snickered. _No butts, mister. Mr. Butts. Ha. I wonder-_ "Alfred? You coming?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, one second, let me go get something." He walked into the main room and stuck his hand under the small chair. Grabbing something, he pulled them out and dusted them off. Cleaning the lenses, he slipped the glasses in his pocket.

He got back to Rye quickly, not allowing impatience to stir within him.

As he stepped out the door, cold air greeted him. He walked contentedly next to Rye, watching the white wisps of air float in front of his mouth.

"What?" Alfred looked at Rye. "What? I thought…" Rye trailed off into a string of incoherent mumblings. "What's wrong?" Alfred asked. "You seem genuinely concerned about something."

Rye frowned. "We should have enough money for everything, but we're short. _Really_ short. If this happens say, hm, two or three more times, we'd have to-" His face paled. "We'd need the tesserae. But we don't have anyone eligible for the tesserae. So we wouldn't be able to get anything…" He adopted a worried look on his face. At this moment, Alfred realized something.

This boy was technically _five. Five_ for Pete's sake! He definitely _looked_ like, seven, but seriously!

Alfred sighed exasperatedly.

"Then let's get the necessities and go. We don't need to be lollygagging any longer." Alfred crossed his arms. "Standing around certainly isn't doing anything. Let's go." Rye nodded. Walking up to the bread shop, an old man was hunched over the counter. Alfred eyed him carefully. "Rye, go get the bread, I'll be right with you." He stepped next to the man. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man looked up at him and smile sardonically. "Everyone needs helpin' young man. Look around." Alfred looked behind him. Several people walked by. A crying little girl. A scraggly old woman. A far too thin boy gripping an equally thin mother.

Alfred frowned. "I wish I could help them. It's so frustrating. Seeing people suffer without being able to assist." Alfred let out a dry laugh. "Although I'd think that if I were in District Two."

The old man shook his head, taking a sip out of his canteen.

"I learned a long time ago not to acquaintance myself with people like you."

"People like me?" Alfred scuffed the heel of his shoe in the dry dirt. "Whaddya mean by that?"

The old man sighed. "Don't take it personally. It's just…" He looked down. Tilting his head back, he raised the canteen, and Alfred watched the last drops of the liquid drip into his mouth. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he let out a deep breath.

"I've had bad experiences with people trying to be heroes."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Like who?" The man blinked.

"I'd get in trouble for saying." He scratched his beard. "The laws are so strict on those matters nowadays." Alfred gave him a funny look. "Who's so bad that you can't talk about it?" The man gave smirk. "Not bad, necessarily-"

"Hey Alfred! I got the bread! Come on already!" Rye ran up next to him, he pointed his thumb behind him. "The next shop is just over there!"

The old man seemed to freeze. His eyes widened. His grip on the canteen loosened. His right hand shakily reached out at Rye.

The canteen clattered to the ground noisily.

Alfred stepped in front of Rye. "One inch closer to Rye and I swear I will not hesitate to harm you!"

The man raised his hand to his mouth. "He looks so much like him… ha! He didn't tell me she had…children! Hahahahahah! Of course she did!" He grasped Alfred's hand. "The name's Haymitch! Haymitch Abernathy! I hope we can become friends real soon!"

Alfred shifted awkwardly. "Uh…"

Line Break

Canada poured more maple syrup on his pancakes. Taking a bite, he swallowed thickly. He boredly poked his pancakes. He'd lost his appetite. He sighed.

He stood up and tossed the plate on the counter. Trekking the treacherous construction he called the stairs, he sat at his desk and closed his eyes. Maybe if he just closed them for a moment-

"Sir! We've received a letter from the President of… Panem?"

"You mean America."

"No, sir! It's listed as Panem."

He snatched the letter out of the man's hand. He inspected the blood red wax seal on it. It sported a sort of bird with it wings raised. Using his letter opener he ripped it open and inspected the clean white sheet of paper with dark ink scrawled at the top.

_Dear personification of Canada,_

_It has come to my attention that my soldiers have suspected wandering civilians of yours that came too close to the wall as criminals, and unfortunately have taken their lives. I apologize greatly on the behalf of my soldiers and do send my biggest of condolences to the families of the victims. It is a shame that they had to be mistaken as criminals and have had their lives taken from them. From this point in this letter the same thing has been written in a letter sent to the president, everything after has been specifically written for you. As a sincere apology, I invite you to a celebration that will occur four years after this letter has been sent. This celebration actually occurs annually, but every twenty-five years we have something called a Quarter Quell, and it's sure to be better than the rest. Be sure to attend._

_-Valora Snow_

Canada read the letter six times over.

Yet he still couldn't believe it.

He laughed. Almost a century of no contact with outside its own borders, and suddenly a letter comes out stemming from something so minor –enlisted as _Panem_ nonetheless. Canada could cry from the sheer frustration. He clutched his hair in white knuckles and laid his head down on the desk.

He couldn't even _respond_. Where would he send it to?

Canada relaxed his grip on his hair and calmed down for the time being. He sighed into the desk. And closed his eyes. Just for a moment.

Line Break

Once Alfred and Rye got out of that mess of awkwardness, they visited the other shops in silence. Once they got home, Rye alerted Lomie of the situation on trading material. A solemn look crossed her face. "This is really troublin'. If we don' get this fixed soon…" She trailed off.

She sighed. "Well sittin' around doin' nothin' ain't gonna help. Alfred com'ere I'm gonna teach you how'ta hunt."

Rye adopted a scandalized look on his face. "Oh come on! How come he gets to-"

Lomie looked at him sternly. "Young man, you're _five_. No." Rye pouted and stomped out of the room. Lomie rolled her eyes. She looked back at Alfred, arms crossed. She furrowed her brows. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she said to Alfred, "I don' know how I'm gonna to do it, but 'ere." She handed him a pocket knife. And _boy_ did it look cool.

"Come on, 'ollow me." She walked out the back door out into the cool air. Slipping in between two low-hanging trees, she walked forwards and into a huge hole in a wire fence. Rolling her shoulders she turned at Alfred. "Be careful 'round that fence. Sometimes it's electrified an' you don' wan' to touch 'at." Alfred nodded. "Is this illegal?" Lomie shrugged. "Technically, yea, but no 'ne cares. Just don' get caught by the peacekeepers."

"Got it."

Lomie gestured to two trees with battered targets carved into them. "This is where you're gonna to practice wi' weapons. Bows, knives, maybe if we can fin' any, a gun. But gun laws are ridiculously strict. _Holdin' _a gun will get you killed." Alfred looked appalled.

"Don' look like 'at. Chances are, we ain't gettin' one anytime soon." Lomie smirked and stood next to Alfred.

_Thwack_

Alfred flinched. Focusing his eyes on the tree- which was becoming more and more difficult without his glasses because _apparently_ glasses weren't very common- he saw a knife- no _two_ stuck in the exact bullseye of the target. He didn't even see her move!

"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Alfred said. Lomie laughed her manly laugh. "Well, by the end of the month I expe't you to be jus' as fast an' accurate."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Pfft. Like that's going to happen." Lomie looked at him with a frown. "Well if it is, we're gonna 'ave to start now. Get out 'at knife I gave you."

Holding her own knife she demonstrated how to grip it. Copying her, he threw it the way she showed him.

Well, he missed the target.

But he definitely didn't miss the tree.

Or the tree behind it.

Or the tree behind _that_.

Lomie looked amazed. She started laughing. "No boy, remind me not to get on _your_ bad side." Alfred ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Okay now let's try 'at again wit' a little less power."

Line Break

To be frank, he only hit the target _once_. But hey, most of his throws hit the tree. And only_some_ had made dents into the poor tree. And only one had gone through the tree.

The poor knife didn't even look like knife anymore.

_But_ he'd tell himself _It's probably my lack of glasses._ So, being the wonderfully smart person he was, he snuck out at night.

Alfred sighed in the freezing air as he slipped the glasses on. They immediately fogged up and he wiped them off. Taking the knife he'd taken from the kitchen, he positioned himself and tensed his muscles.

Taking a breath of the freezing air, he collected his thoughts.

A chilly wind breezed through the small clearing, ruffling the leaves above him. For a moment- he felt a home.

He felt at home. At peace. He felt-

_Pain_

Hot, fiery pain flared up his back. Fire roasted his nerves, biting his back and burning his skin. He fell over onto the grass, a strangled cry escaping his throat as he desperately grasped at his back. He screamed into the ground, the sound echoing through the quiet forest.

Hot, salty tears dropped onto the grass. In the middle of the clearing lay a shaking body, breathing shuddering breaths. The body lay there for some time, finally mustering up the strength to stand against a tree.

Alfred stiffly walked back to the house, shaky breaths wracking his body. Finding a small mirror, he painfully positioned it to look at his back. He gasped in surprise. Black markings, like a thorn bush adorned his lower back. He dropped the mirror. A single thought crossed his mind.

"Am I Fading?"

Line Break

**Aaaaand that's a wrap! Not for the entire story, silly. I think this is my longest chapter yet, too! **

**Please Comment, it keeps me firin' mah lazah. Considering that the last chapter didn't have any comments whatsoever, it was pretty discouraging. But, I still got this out.**

**SO thank you for reading this chapter, hope you enjoyed! ****J**


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